You Try to Move Your Feet
by cornersoftoday
Summary: Quinn stares at the bottom of another glass of vodka. Rachel stares at the ring around her finger. Neither intended to find themselves where they are. Future!Fic.


_We meet here for our dress rehearsal to say_

"_I wanted it this way"_

_Wait for the year to drown_

_Spring forward, fall back down_

_I'm trying not to wonder where you are_

– The Weakterthans - Left & Leaving

Quinn grabs the bottle on the counter and pours a measure of vodka into her glass. She splashes some Diet Coke on top, mostly for show, mostly to show herself that she hasn't gone too far yet. She bought the handle three days ago but there isn't enough left for tonight.

"_RACHEL BERRY ENGAGED TO CO-STAR_" the tabloid on the table shouts at her. She knew better, but she couldn't stop her arm from reaching for the magazine, reaching for Rachel, as she was checking out at the liquor store. One handle of vodka and one reminder of everything I'm trying to drown, thank you.

There is a photograph of Quinn on the magazine too. "_RACHEL'S EX, QUINN FABRAY, SEEN WITH ANOTHER MYSTERY WOMAN_." Quinn had passed out in the passenger seat before they made it to her house, then puked in her driveway when she was roused to walk inside. When she rounded the front end and discovered the vomit and Quinn's tears, the mystery woman had started her car and backed down the driveway, abandoning Quinn to her despair. The way she liked it.

"Fuck, what the fuck..."

Quinn takes a large gulp of her drink, slams it down on the table, grabs the tabloid, and shoves it in the trash. She lands heavily on the couch and plays a movie. Something sad. It doesn't matter. She lets the dialogue and soundtrack wash over her eyes closed, imagines different faces, different scenery.

Four full glasses and one empty handle later, Quinn shuffles into the bathroom. Through a haze she studies herself, who she has become, in the mirror of the drug cabinet. No wonder she hasn't gotten a part in months. She isn't even a pretty girl anymore. Mascara streaks down her cheeks, short blond hair sticking up at odd angles, dark circles under her eyes, hazel eyes so tired you would imagine she hadn't slept in a year. She hasn't slept much. She wakes shaking, calling for Rachel most nights. When Rachel doesn't come–when she remembers that Rachel will never wrap her arms around her again, that she is _gone_–she begins to sob and cries herself back into a fitful sleep.

"Is it worth it?" Quinn asks herself. "I don't think it's worth it to live like this, Q."

She runs a finger along the edge of her face in the reflection.

"I lost her. She was all I had. It's easy, Q. It's easy. They'll all be better off without me. Fuck it."

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she pulls open the medicine cabinet, the door squeaking slightly.

"Tylenol. That works."

Her slender fingers wrap around the small bottle and shake it. Almost full. She usually prefers something stronger for her headaches, but her doctor cut her off when she began refilling the bottles weekly. She hadn't found a new pharmacist yet.

"Okay, Q."

She pops open the bottle and pours the white pills into her palm.

"Wait, wait... Rachel."

Tears flow down her cheeks, drawing longer black lines down her face.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket.

"I have to tell Rachel..."

Muscle memory types the number and hits send.

"What if she changed–"

"Quinn?"

She grips the handful of pills tighter. One of them snaps in half.

Quinn begins sobbing, gasping for air, chest tight; she hasn't heard Rachel's voice in so long, it hurts.

"Ra-*sob*-chel. I ca-*sob*n't."

"Quinn, Quinn, what's going on? Don't do anything. Don't move. You still live in our house, right? I'm coming right now."

"Wha-*sob*? How? No. No."

"I'm coming."

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Josh kneels in front of her in the middle of the crowded restaurant, Rachel doesn't know what to do. She can't lose him. Not now that she has finally garnered positive publicity. The public likes them together. He's handsome and kind, but she doesn't love him and she doesn't want to marry him either.

"Yes!" she shrieks, playing the part, mouth agape. "I can't believe it! Yes, of course, yes!"

The other patrons applaud as she kisses her fiancé lightly on the lips. They finish their meal in relative silence. When they get to the car, her facade cracks ever so slightly.

"Josh! Why didn't you ask me at home? Or talk to me about it at all? A girl appreciates a heads up about these things, you know."

"I wanted to surprise you, babe. Don't you like the ring? Kurt helped me pick it out."

Rachel glances at the glittering stone set in the band around her ring finger. It is a beautiful diamond, but it feels like a shackle–she does't like the ring at all.

"Yes, yes, the ring is perfect. I love you," Rachel lies, averting her eyes out the window, counting the blocks left before they reach their apartment.

"We have to visit your parents in Ohio and all of our friends down in L.A. to celebrate! Won't that be great, Rach?" Josh had never been able to say _dads_.

"Great, yeah."

Rachel asks Josh to stay in a motel while they're in Lima. She wants a few days alone with her dads and her memories of the town. She can't sleep with all the new and old emotions swirling together in her head, throwing her off balance. She climbs out of bed, dresses quickly, and sneaks out like she's seventeen again to wander the town under the starry summer sky.

A breath of Quinn lingers over everything she sees. They bumped into each other at the public library senior year. In retrospect, Quinn was more flustered than she should have been if they were just "kind of" friends. She dropped the stack of books she was checking out, scrambled to pick them up, pushing Rachel away when she tried to help, and turned the spines into her chest as she collected them back in her arms. Rachel still noticed the word "gay" in at least one of the titles.

Around one in the morning, Rachel finds herself at the McKinley High stadium. Quinn cheered for her when Rachel suited up for football. Rachel convinced Quinn to return to Glee under the bleachers. Rachel believes they cared about each other more than anyone else, even then.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Rachel runs across the field, screaming at the top of her lungs. She doesn't have to sing for at least two weeks; it feels good to let it out.

She climbs the bleachers for a better view of the campus. The buildings look smaller now. It all looks smaller. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, flicks her contacts to "Q," hesitates, and shuts it off again. It's only eleven in California; Quinn should be awake. But Rachel doesn't know what she would do if Quinn didn't answer.

Rachel catches her name on the cover of the tabloid as she and Josh make their way through the terminal in Columbus. As she stops, she reads "ENGAGED" beneath it. She snatches the magazine off of the rack, and shakes it as she shouts.

"Josh! How do they know about this?"

"Well..."

"Well, what? Oh, of course. YOU PROPOSED TO ME IN A RESTAURANT IN FRONT OF FIFTY OTHER PEOPLE."

"Rach, calm down, I talked to our publicist. He assured me that since they knew already it would be best to get it out there. It's going to help out the play, you know, and..."

Rachel grips her forehead and releases a heavy sigh.

"Josh, I can't even announce my own engagement to my friends, not to mention..."

"What, babe, what's wrong? I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but everyone's going to be ecstatic! They all know how it is sometimes." He takes Rachel's hand and kisses it lightly. "It's not like our secret relationship has been exposed or anything. It's okay."

Her heart almost stops. Rachel rips her hand out of his and cuts him with a glare.

"How could you even say that?"

Josh reaches out for her again and tries a calming smile. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it still bothered you. I thought it would be okay to make a joke. It was just a harmless joke."

"It's not a joke," Rachel asserts before she turns away from him and begins to walk away, adding, in a soft voice, "And not everyone is going to be ecstatic."

When they arrive in Los Angeles, Rachel is suffocated by the memories of Quinn plastered on what feels like every street corner in the goddamn city. A coffee shop they visited. The beach where they ran from the paparazzi, laughing, until the next day when they saw the tabloids and Rachel was furious with Quinn for grabbing her hand as they sprinted away. Then there was just shouting. The vegan Indian restaurant Rachel persuaded Quinn to try, and to love. The studio where they first found each other again. First glance, first date, first kiss, first fight, and almost every single first and last and every one in between of everything they did is a part of this city.

She hasn't been back in over a year because it is too hard to breathe here. There is the smog, which she has always hated, but now there is Quinn too.

When she and Josh head to dinner, Rachel insists they try a place that opened recently, a place that can't possibly remind her of Quinn. She orders a cosmo. And then another. As Josh rambles about this caterer and that DJ, she glances at the door every time it opens.

"What do you think, Rach? I think you'll love them."

"Yeah, as long as they can make something vegan."

Josh laughs, thinking it's a joke. "Yeah, floral arrangements usually are vegan, hun."

"Oh, yeah, I'm just kidding, of course. I'm sure they're perfect."

Rachel attempts what she hopes is a reassuring smile. Then she hears the hostess greet new guests and flips her head around.

Josh notices, but thinks she's just searching for old friends. "See anyone you know yet? I bet we'll run into someone. That'll be fun!"

Rachel cannot think of anything less fun.

"Oh, of course!"

After dinner, they go for drinks with some friends. Not one of them even ever met Quinn. Rachel is a good actress, but after almost two hours of holding a fake smile she excuses herself to the bathroom. She's had a few more cosmos. Enough that she can't remember exactly how many. She leans into the mirror studying her face free of the forged grin. A pretty girl, but is she more than that now? She's fulfilled her dreams. She's finally a Broadway star and is set to marry the best man in New York City. Why does her reflection betray a sad, lost girl?

Rachel feels the ring on her finger and glances down at it.

"There's no other way," she whispers. "I love him. I love him. I love him."

Unconvinced, Rachel tugs the ring off–as she always does when she's away from Josh–and shoves it into her pocket. She pulls out her phone instead and stares at the black screen. She touches it a few times, but does not unlock it.

She sighs heavily and returns her cell to her pocket.

"I love him," Rachel repeats, tears pricking at her eyes. "I don't love her anymore. I don't."

_Bzzzzzz_. Her phone is ringing.

The screen lights up as she pulls it from her pocket: _Incoming call from Quinn Fabray_.

Rachel used to joke that they had a psychic connection.

It's not so funny now.

"No..."

She hesitates for a split second before she hits _answer_.

"Quinn?"

Less than a minute later she grabs her coat, offers a simple, "I have to go," and almost stumbles to the ground as she rushes outside to hail a cab.


End file.
